No, this isn't an early Valentine's Day post. This is a Victorian era portrait pin, aka a mourning pin, or brooch / button, (also referred to as a sweetheart token), and she possesses one of the most other-worldly profiles from the past that I've ever encountered. That haunted, longing stare from over a hundred plus years gone... who has a good, melancholy tale to tell about her?
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Okay, maybe this is an early Valentine's Day post after all...
At first, I thought the hair over the image was real hair. I had read that hair was turned into mourning jewelry up until the 1900's.
A melancholy tale- He was a pilot of the great war, a fearless daredevil who racked up many kills in the sky, an Ace of his squadron.
He returned home on leave eager to see his sweetheart, only to receive the news she had been killed in a Zepplin raid the day before.
His heart died within him, he returned to the front determined to make the enemy pay. He survived the war but vowed never to marry, he wore the pin over his heart for the rest of his life until the day he joined her in paradise.
A nice one to start with, thanks JMR!
>I had read that hair was turned into mourning jewelry up until the 1900's.
Also the deceased loved ones hair would sometimes be arranged with flowers and framed as wall decor. There's actually two very early Victorian ones hanging in an antique store near me. They're really beautiful.
Sure, a story is nice, but if you dip her in your drink does anything come off?
She's an ancient, twisted deity shoved into the living skin of a long dead sacrificial women; ever piece of hair actually a whirling drill to pour into your eye sockets and consume your very soul; to be dragged forever into the void of it's black beating ichor.
Or that's what I thought after that damn pin poked me!
Could Marlene even call herself a twin anymore, now that Mary had thrown herself down the well? Mary's adored Jonathan had left her for lovely Adelaide down in the valley, and now Mary had left Marlene in turn, their lifelong connection severed by a perfectly gothic act of self-destruction. Or was it severed? Marlene certainly felt haunted, and all she could stand in life was to recede to the top of the house, lock herself into that dusty attic full of clothes and whatnot, where she and Mary had played as children.
It's a trick of Victorian irony that, in situations like this, haunted dowagers persist quite a long time in their isolation. Marlene, trapped in her attic, lived another thirty-six years slowly maddening under the influence of her twinship with a corpse in the bottom of the family well. Through the years she became pale, frightening to the few who chanced across her, or even imagined her pottering away amongst the cobwebs and steamer chests, muttering to herself and dressing up in long-dead people's clothing.
As she finally declined a doctor was called, by that point more of a formality than a rescue, really, and he was unsurprised to discover her already near death. But on her otherwise pale face, he clearly marked circle of sunburn inconsistent with the thin grey light trickling from between the shutters. Or was it in fact the effect of daily noontime sunlight that just reached poor dead Mary's upturned face at the bottom of the well? The doctor had his suspicions, but he did not include them in his report.
Ahhh what a perfectly paralyzing three paragraph chiller by Mr C... I think I'd like to see Jeffrey Catherine Jones illustrate this for Comix International, --or maybe even for Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery.
>Or that's what I thought after that damn pin poked me
I poked myself as well while trying to glue down the tiny bit of photo that is popping out on the right side. And strange how the blood droplet which fell upon her darkened lips, (accompanied by an odd sucking noise), seemed to suddenly seep right into the picture. And now more of the photo is slowly coming loose from the thin, braided brass hoop of the framework which encircles the once sad, faded photo. She almost seems to be smiling now, as the dear face slowly turns towards my unbreakable stare, back into the longing eyes of the one who hath been summoned to the other side by thee, forever...
I gaze longingly at the image of my beloved ... of you, Olivia. Tucked hastily into its round, tarnished housing, the warped paper gives me a glimpse of eyes that will be always cast askance at my figure, standing there next to you on our wedding day. If only you had allowed such a glorious celebration to take place. If only ...
I caress the lips, so red like a perfectly shaped rose, that whispered to me “Please, Jonathan, please,” just before the hollow sound of bones snapping and a final exhale that will forever haunt my memory. The stealthy click of a shutter ensured that your beautiful image would be preserved just for me, and that our love would never die. I will carry you in my heart, and in my pocket... forever.
Another horrific home run! Thank you for participating, CPC, aka Creepy Pants Carol!!
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